Solstice

Robin hated the cold.

It wasn't a conscious hatred; more like a constant nagging feeling in the back of his head, always reminding him of his heritage. That was one thing he wished he never found out. His heritage hadn't done anything for him, hadn't done anything for those he cared about. That was the one good thing about his amnesia, he thought. At least he had a few years of sweet bliss, unaware of what his purpose was. What he was bred for.

But then, if it wasn't for his heritage, then he wouldn't be able to save anyone, least of all those he cared about.

It was a theory. One that was based on a single thing Naga told Chrom. Even then, it was still their safest bet. If it proved to be true, then the world could be saved for good. No foisting their own problems onto a later generation, their distant descendants. The First Exalt had already done that, and that single hasty decision led to untold amounts of destruction and pain.

It may have been a theory, but it was the best one he had. And he'd be damned if he didn't at least try. For the sake of a better world, one without the Fell Dragon.

One without him.

Or do you just want to die?

Alex's words echoed in his skull. Robin shook his head as he stood outside Tiki's door. Such thoughts did nothing; they served no purpose other than to make him question himself. And yet, in the back of his mind, he wondered if Alex spoke the truth. Did he truly, simply wish to die? To let go?

Either way, Robin wanted Tiki to know. She had a right to, for putting up with him for so long. Despite his dour mood, he felt himself smile just at the mere thought of her. She was thousands of years old, sure, and likely had many lovers throughout that time, all of whom probably thought the same way he did. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself to care. He imagined her, outlined by the sky, luscious green hair dancing in the breeze, vibrant eyes gazing warmly at him, with arms wide open in preparation for an embrace.

How could he want to die when such an image was so easily conjured in his mind?

Robin opened the door to Tiki's room, cringing slightly as it creaked. Someone needed to oil the hinges for Naga's sake!

"Oh, Robin! Just in time," Tiki said, looking over herself in the mirror. "I decided to add a few things to my wardrobe. Nothing too pricy, although there wasn't much to find within the city itself."

Robin let out a sigh. Thank the gods she was awake. He almost had a panic attack a few days prior when he found her lying motionless in the middle of the Grounds; it was good to see she was back to her usual self. Well, whatever defined her as her 'usual self', really.

"You've been out?" Robin asked, walking in. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was, but then I decided to wake up and do things. I have had enough of nice beds, to be perfectly frank with you," Tiki adjusted the tiara on her head, but it somehow looked different. "What do you think? The shopkeeper within the city looked to be happy that he had business. Especially so when he had a buyer for such a priceless piece of jewelry. Heh, it's actually based off my old tiara, from Mar-Mar's era."

The jewel-encrusted golden tiara shined delicately in the light granted by the lantern in the room. Robin chuckled to himself, despite what he was about to say. He marveled at the fact that Tiki felt comfortable enough to talk to him like that. It was almost like they were-

Robin coughed into his hand. "It certainly suits you, I must say. It must've cost a fortune. Er, how much did it cost, if I could ask?"

"Mm, not much," Tiki answered, taking off the tiara and leaving her head unadorned. "He didn't have a lot of business, he said and was really just looking for an excuse to get rid of it. Even the nobility of this city find their coffers a bit wanting after the battle here, it seems."

"I imagine," Robin replied, his face slowly turning into a frown as he walked over to Tiki's bed. "Can we… speak about something for a few moments?"

Tiki looked at him strangely and said nothing. She nodded as she stepped toward her bed and sat down. "…Your face is all scrunched up. It must be rather grim, hmm?"

Robin's lips thinned. "You could say that."

"Well, let me hear it," Tiki said, patting the spot beside her. "You can tell me anything, you know. I will listen."

Robin nodded, sitting down. "I know you will. I… I still don't understand why you tolerate me, even after learning about who I am. What I am."

Robin stiffened when he felt Tiki's head on his shoulder. "You underestimate yourself, Robin. I knew what you were the moment I laid my eyes on you. And I don't care."

Robin closed his eyes and sighed. Why did she have to make it so difficult? "My… my purpose is actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Robin?"

"If Chrom slays Grima's physical body with the Exalted Falchion, Grima will be sealed, but not dead. He will return someday to terrorize our descendants. But… but there might be a way to kill him. To defeat him for good."

"You want to sacrifice yourself, don't you?" Tiki finished for him, her voice disturbingly quiet and serene. "You think that by dealing the final blow to Grima, that you will kill him for good. You also think it might kill you, as well."

Robin hung his head low, shame piling on his shoulders like jugs of water. "I… Yes, that is what I think." Robin shook his head. "I have no way to prove it other than to actually test it. Nothing Naga said indicates that this is the case. I just… have this strange feeling. Like I've made this decision before, and that it resulted in… well, what we have before us now."

"Naga has spoken to me on occasion, Robin," Tiki said, taking her head off his shoulder. He missed it being there. "Chrom is hardly the first person to talk to her directly. Hah. She's my mother, and yet she sees fit to talk to someone who is barely related to her…"

"Tiki?" Robin asked, concerned.

The Divine Dragon shook her head and folded her arms in her lap. "Do not worry about it, Robin. Just simple raw nerves. Nothing that is relevant to the point you brought up." She looked to him, then, green eyes aglow with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "I can tell you right now, Robin, that your suspicions are correct. If you deal the final blow to Grima, then he will die, and you will cease to exist."

When he first came up with his theory, it didn't affect him too much. A grim sense of duty had overtaken him, perhaps. But when the person he loved said it, it felt as if she'd slammed a warhammer straight into his chest. His heart beat fast within, a blackened heart pumping dark blood through his veins, the same as Grima's. All it would take was a dagger, a spear of lightning perhaps, and all that he was would cease to exist, and the same would be true for the monster that had been hiding in the shadows his entire life.

Tiki sighed, looking down at the floor. "I am no stranger to losing those I love, Robin. And if you make this choice, you are stronger than most. Not everyone would be willing to sacrifice everything to save countless people and generations. But… if I could be truthful with you for a moment?"

Robin nodded silently.

"You asked me why I tolerate you? Why I love you?" Tiki's voice was growing increasingly fragile as if the wrong word would shatter her. "Hah. I asked myself that same question when you climbed up the Mila Tree, all sweaty and barely able to stand. Why was I drawn to you? I have my own draconic pride, after all, and while you've certainly grown a bit more since that day, I couldn't help but wonder to myself about it."

Tiki took Robin's left hand, and the tactician squeezed in return.

"At first I thought it was because of your heritage. Yes, something so base. I was ashamed of myself afterward," Tiki let out a humorless giggle. "Then I thought it was because you reminded me of someone I used to know. I once compared you to an old friend of mine. You don't know his name, but he was an instrumental part of our army's success against Medeus, many, many years ago. Even now, I can see him in you. Although you're certainly more handsome than he was."

Robin let out a small chuckle at that, looking away.

"Mmm, you laugh, but it's true. But now, now I see that it's neither of those things. I do see you as an equal, but not in the same way as another of draconic bloodline. Nor do I see as some sort of replacement for a love long gone…" Robin froze as he felt Tiki slowly remove his left glove. He did like his gloves; they kept him safe. Kept people from prying at something that he'd spent years burying.

The glove dropped to the floor, leaving his pale hand exposed, along with the Brand rooted in his skin. He never liked looking at it. Chrom, Emmeryn, and even Lucina had a similar Brand on their bodies, and they had no issue showing it. But whenever he looked at it, he felt sick. Nauseous. Tiki had seen it before, of course, but this time, she was staring at it directly. A fond smile spread across her face as her thumb traced along the symbol, displaying six-eyes.

It wasn't until Alex told him of his true purpose that he connected the dots. The Brand was a sign of his heritage. A sign that he was the culmination of over a thousand years of planning. And yet there Tiki was, caressing it.

"Now I realize, that there really is no reason. No true reason, anyway. Not ones I'm used to." Tiki looked up, her smiling face marred by unshed tears. "I love you for who you are, Robin. There is no one else like you out there. Perhaps it is for fate's amusement that you are the only one who can kill Grima for good, along with yourself…"

"I…" Robin swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. "We still have months before we need to make a decision. I don't… Gods, I have no idea what to do."

"It is as you said," Tiki said, her voice recovering. "We have months to decide what to do. I don't experience time as you do, Robin, but right now, I'd like to make a decision at this moment. Right now."

Robin gulped again, chuckling nervously. "Ah, I'm sure I've heard that tone before, but I feel like now is not the best time-!"

Robin didn't finish that sentence. Tiki's lips mashing against his prevented that. He felt all traces of doubt leave from his mind.

The world could wait for a moment. Right then, all he wanted to do was be with the person he valued most.

Sins of the Father

Severa would be the last person to describe herself as pleasant.

She knew all too well her own flaws. She was made sure of that from a young age. Not through any fault of those around her, no, she knew she did it to herself. She'd simply had a lot of time to truly analyze herself. To find out just who, exactly, she was.

And she knew she was broken.

It'd taken years, but it finally happened. When she saw her own father's face plastered on that Deadlord, she couldn't take it anymore. It happened so fast, and she barely remembered what happened after that, but what she did know was that nothing was the same. Food didn't taste the same. She couldn't look at her own comrades, dare she say friends, the same way anymore.

She couldn't look at the present version of her dad in the face. When she did, she saw the other one, his mangled mug gormlessly held agape, with piercing red eyes staring straight into her soul.

Slowly, Severa recovered. Eventually, she got to talking more often. She stopped tearing apart training dummies in a juvenile attempt to express her own anger at what happened. But on the inside, she was still reeling.

Guilt clawed away at her. What would she do when her father came back?

Severa shook those thoughts away. She wanted to do something else. Talk to someone else. Someone she never truly had a chance to know in the future. Her mother.

The Pegasus training, learning to wield a lance, all of it was mostly just a ploy to get to know her better. To have actual mother-daughter bonding time, like she never got to have in her own time.

But all things came to an end, and she decided to give back what was rightfully her mother's.

Cordelia spent most of her time practicing with a staff of all things. It made sense, considering her own mother used to be a cleric. She'd most likely have some sort of talent with them. It was also safer than anything more physical, considering her pregnancy.

Severa couldn't help but feel weirded out by that. Her birthday was a mere few weeks away, and considering how far along in her pregnancy her mother was…

She had one thing to do and she intended to do it.

Severa marched over to the medical tents, where Cordelia spent most of her time since her father left. While most of the injuries from the brutal battle a month before were healed, there were more mundane injuries to take care of. Bruises from training, the occasional broken arm or leg, all of them perfect for her to learn how to handle a staff better. Severa admired that about her, at the least, though her mother would likely never hear her say it out loud.

Behind Severa, held by the reigns in her hand, was Aurora, calmly following behind the twin-tailed redhead.

When Severa arrived, she carefully entered the medical tent, being certain to not cause a ruckus. She saw her mother almost instantly, holding a staff over a soldier's leg, a small green light coming from the gem inlaid in the tip.

"Ah, there," She said, letting out a sigh of relief. "Don't try and do anything strenuous for a few days, or you'll find yourself back here again."

The soldier stood up and tested his leg, making sure he could, indeed, walk on it. Severa had to hold back a scoff at that. As if her mother would mess up something so simple.

"Gods, I don't think I'll ever get used to healing magic…" The man mumbled. "Thank you, though!"

Cordelia nodded. "Remember what I said, though: nothing too strenuous. It'll snap in half if you put too much pressure on it. Healing magic can only do so much."

The soldier bowed and made towards the exit, nearly bumping into Severa. She crossed her arms, staring the poor man down before he quickly sidestepped her and left.

Cordelia let out a sigh, wiping at her forehead before looking down at her staff. A small smile crossed her face as she placed it against the cot.

"Having fun?" Severa asked, walking forward.

To her credit, Cordelia only jumped slightly. She turned to face Severa, a genuine smile growing wider. "Sev! Hah, had I known you'd be stopping by, I would have made myself more presentable." Cordelia looked down, her smile faltering slightly. "Or as much as I could have, like this."

Severa sniffed. "Hmph. Even in rags, you'd look stunning. Not like me."

Cordelia's brows furrowed. "Severa…"

Severa waved her hand. "Whatever. I just wanted to give something back to you."

Cordelia tilted her head. "I don't recall lending anything to you."

Severa's gaze wandered back towards the entrance. "…well, I probably should have said 'someone'. Can we, uh, go outside?"

Cordelia looked thoroughly confused but nodded all the same.

When the pair walked outside, the sky still covered by the same dark clouds as they had since the end of the war, Severa led her mother to where she brought Aurora. Cordelia looked from Severa to Aurora, putting the pieces together.

"You're…" Cordelia pursed her lips. "You're giving Aurora back to me?"

Severa shrugged. "She's always been yours. I was just borrowing her until you got better. And considering my birthday is coming up, and you're, well, pregnant, I thought I might as well give her back now."

"Severa," Cordelia began, looking her in the eye. "I still have months to go before I'm fully recovered from my injuries. There's no guarantee I'll even be able to ride her like I used to. Are you sure you wish to do this? I've been training you to become a Pegasus Knight for months and you're one of my best trainees. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother."

Severa bit her lip. She knew it would be difficult. Damn her mother for being so sharp!

"You'll always be better than me," Severa said quietly. "You and dad will always be better than me. All that training? I just wanted to know you better. I never… I never got to really know my mom in the future. And dad, well…"

"You did all of that just because you wanted to…?" Cordelia let out a shuddering breath. "Severa…"

"Look, I know I'm wasting all that time, alright?" Severa shook her head, looking away. "And it's not like I didn't enjoy it! Hell, riding on Aurora was the most fun I've had since… since…"

She actually couldn't remember a time where she was that happy. That thought only deepened the pool of fire that'd been gathering in her chest.

"Severa, I have no problem taking Aurora back," Cordelia said softly, walking up to the Pegasus in question and patting her forehead. "It's been so long since I've been up in the open sky, watching the land below me fall away, Gods, it was exhilarating. I doubt I'll ever get tired of it. I just want to ask why. I was not lying when I said you were one of my best pupils. You caught onto aspects of riding that took some of my recruits months to learn."

Severa rubbed her shoulder. "…Mom, it's not that. I'm good, but I'll never be as good as you."

"I beg to differ!" Cordelia insisted. "Why would you put yourself down in such a way? You are my daughter, but you are also Severa. It took me months to learn how to ride a Pegasus correctly, let alone fight on one. I wasn't always as strong as I am, er, was. You did it in half the time!"

"I can't…" Severa wiped at her face. "I want to be myself. That's the thing, mom, I'm not a good person. Did you see the way I treated dad when he tried to check on me!? Gawd, I was awful! I brushed him off like the past few months didn't happen!" Severa paced around, trying to keep her eyes covered. "And you… look at what I did to you. You were already pregnant, and during the battle of Wyval I just… just ran out and did my own thing! And it got you injured and you almost died! I don't deserve this! I don't!"

Severa clamped a hand over her mouth before turning to her mother, gauging her reaction. The sight of her mother's shocked expression made her want to run away and never look back.

Perhaps it was just her being emotional. Severa certainly couldn't tell. She didn't deserve her parents' love, not when she was like this, not when she was Severa. She remembered the way she snapped at her father in the future one day, just before they were sent back in time. She always knew that may have been the reason he stayed behind. Or maybe that was always his plan; one last glorious battle against his immortal enemy. She didn't know. She didn't know anything. She was just a stupid girl who didn't deserve-!

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. Her mother embraced her, softly humming.

"It's okay," Cordelia whispered.

"I-It's really not…" Severa whimpered, trying to pull away, weakly. "I d-don't deserve this. Mom, I really d-don't."

"Stop saying such things, Sev," Cordelia said, her voice gentle but forceful. "You do. You absolutely do. You are a beautiful young woman, and I'm proud of you. Your father is proud of you, too, no matter what you say."

"How can he be? I left him behind, I was horrible to him!" Severa protested.

Cordelia looked sternly at her. "The man your father was in the future is not the one I married. From the way it sounds, it seems my death is what lead him to become… that monster. I will not let him become that way again. That is not your fault, Severa. It's not your fault."

"Mom, I…"

"It's not your fault," Cordelia repeated, brushing her fingers across Severa's cheek, wiping away tears she didn't know she'd been shedding.

That was all it took for the true dam to break. With those final words, Severa turned into a sobbing wreck. This wasn't like all those times where she 'broke down', either. This was a deep, primal pain, one that had rooted itself deeply. It wasn't all sadness, though. A brief flash of warmth joined it.

Relief.

"Whatever you do, I will support you," Cordelia murmured, as Severa sobs turned into quiet sniffling. "Whether you want to become a Pegasus Knight later on, or if you'd rather fight on the ground, I will be there for you. I… I may not be your real mother, but Gods, am I not going to try."

Severa sniffed, hugging her tighter. "Can we just… stay like this for a moment? Please?"

Cordelia laced her fingers through Severa's hair, and that was all the answer she needed.

Age of Sacrifice

"Do we really need to keep going!? Gods, my feet are about to fall off!" Morgan complained, nearly stumbling on jagged rocks before catching her balance again. "Can't I just transform into a dragon? I mean, I know you can't. Heck, your hand is all pink and human again, but I wouldn't mind carrying you on my back if I could just go ahead and do that."

"Yes, young Morgan, and alert every single blasted abomination within the area. That sounds like an excellent idea," Mikael looked backward, giving her the stink-eye. "I can understand your suffering, at the very least. A shame our buggy was murdered, else this journey would be all the easier."

Morgan huffed, pressing onward behind the draconian. "Just saying. I could probably take them on."

"Many of them? Perhaps, but this Grima character… No, I think not. You would be killed or captured, and I cannot allow that. Not now." Mikael replied, shaking his head.

"Can we at least stop for a second? Please?" Morgan asked, her voice growing lighter. "I can't meet father again if I'm dead from exhaustion!"

Mikael hissed in frustration. If they were caught there, so close to the captured city of Ylisstol, they would be doomed. They would likely be taken by the Fell Dragon and experimented upon, and considering what Morgan's dragon form looked like, a much darker fate awaited her.

He couldn't allow that. Not when he was so close. Not when he still had a debt to pay.

They were on their way to the city of Tathis, specifically to Mt. Prism, the mountain the location was built near. Such a heavily defensible area would be suitable to house them until the Ylissean League came back from across the long sea. Such an area steeped in such strong Divine power would be an excellent area to hold out against the forces of the Fell Dragon.

Even then, they would need to make it there, first. They were traveling along the Longfort, to the north of Ylisstol and the city of Auraegis. Even the backwood and mountain trails they were traveling through were patrolled by wandering bands of murderous Risen. The Fell Dragon's influence had spread at an alarming rate. Not even the Shadow Dragon Medeus could attain near-complete control of an entire continent in a scant few months. Not even with the help of Khadein's Pontifex, Gharnef. And yet, Grima had done so in less than a few months, tearing across the countryside and sundering the capital with might only matched by other dragons.

The sky had gone dark, and that was but a prelude to what was to happen if the histories he'd read about were an indication. It was likely the very land itself would be reshaped once more, should the worm attain its full power.

Mikael and Morgan set up camp at a small outcropping, overlooking the Longfort in the distance. Even from there, Mikael could see the gathering power in the south. It was like a maelstrom of dark energy, swirling into a hurricane. Red and purple mixed in a tornado of evil. It was like staring at the end of the world.

"…Do you really think Grima would find us?" Morgan asked tentatively, holding her knees close to her chest by the crackling fire. "Why does he even care about me?"

"That, I cannot answer, young Morgan," Mikael replied solemnly. "There is no doubt that he was the one who sent the Risen after you, when I found you in Thabes. To what end? I have only theories," Mikael paced, holding the warm stone in his human hand like it was the only thing keeping him sane. "We have both done research, when last we were in a settlement. You recall they had a library?"

"Uh…" Morgan chuckled nervously, scratching her scalp. "Kinda? I mean, it's a bit fuzzy, but I do remember going to a library with you, yeah."

Mikael had to keep himself from balking. "You possess perhaps one of the greatest tactical minds I have ever seen; whenever you and I play strategy games, you win nearly every time, and yet when it comes to your memory… Gods, I can barely comprehend it."

"Aww, you think my tactics are good?" Morgan smiled sheepishly. "Well, they aren't anything compared to my father's. I could never beat him at those, you know. I can remember that much, at least."

"Indeed," Mikael sighed. "I did my research there. How such a place came to exist in a backwater village… But it matters not. The texts told of what happened during the Schism, the Age of Sacrifice…"

The era earned its name; countless people died, and it was only through the complete sacrifice of the few that the many were allowed to continue their lives. Truly, such things were only the makings of storybooks, and yet the texts presented them as fact. Medeus, Loptyr, Duma and Mila, none of them had gotten so close to tearing entire continents apart. All the evil dragons in history couldn't have brought every nation under their heel so quickly, and yet this Grima had.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, there were those who cast their lot in with the Fell Dragon, and they were the ancestors of the Grimleal that troubled the continent for the past millennium. The strongest among them were granted powers beyond those of regular men; their muscles enhanced, their magic sent to new heights, but their minds near-completely shackled. Enslaved. They were the Deadlords, those loyal to the Fell Dragon brought back to life. Through what method, Mikael knew not. The Deadlords he knew of were purely dark magic constructions, used by Loptyr in the Jugdrali Sagas.

Mikael could remember the shiver that trailed up his spine when he read that particular passage. The Aum staff was still with him, carried at all times to ensure it never fell into anyone else's hands. Not even Morgan's. The manakete girl was certainly bright, but such an artifact should not be wasted on any old woodland creature.

Morgan listened to Mikael speak for over an hour, growing sleepier with each word that left his non-moving reptilian lips. Before long, she fell asleep, and Mikael didn't realize until another hour had passed. There was no light from the moon by that time, and their fire stood out like a sore thumb. Carefully, he put it out and covered Morgan in all the blankets he could find. The draconian would be fine, even without a true source of warmth.

Idly, Mikael continued to watch the swirling vortex of hate to the south, clutching the stone in his hand. Such a small thing, and yet it was so simple when Morgan allowed him to study her dragonstone.

A cure was within reach.

Usurping Heaven

"Are the streets clear, Kellam?" Frederick asked, making sure his armor didn't make too much noise as the tall, armored man looked around the corner.

"…Clear," He said quietly. The two knights made their way across the road, directly towards one of the ruined houses, one of many that'd been destroyed when the city was assaulted. They made their way through the ruined doorway, careful to not make too much of a ruckus or to dislodge loose stonework. The Risen were in control of the city, after all, and one wrong move could mean death.

Completely tucked away from prying eyes, they opened a wooden hatch in the ground and climbed down. The old ladder creaked under their weight but held firm. Frederick didn't know how much longer that would last.

In all honesty, he was just glad that there existed such a secluded spot. When it was clear they couldn't defend the city from Grima's onslaught, despite the ample amount of soldiers they had on hand, he and several of the Shepherds retreated into the dark corners of Ylisstol, where not even the Fell Dragon could truly find them. It was clear the worm didn't know every nook and cranny of the city. It was a godsend, that.

Of course, that did nothing to dull the impact of losing their city. Many civilians made it out, of course. The troops lasted long enough for that. Whether they were able to make it to the surviving cities, however, Frederick did not know. Could not know. Outside of the city, they were completely blind of anything happening. And they couldn't leave. Not anymore. Not with the Deadlords and the Risen patrolling the streets and alleys.

Frederick knew that, realistically, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered. And even if they could find a way out of the city, there were still people trapped within, and as a sworn knight of Ylisse, Knight-Commander no less, he refused to leave a single one of them behind.

That was only his duty, though. The other Shepherds should not have stayed behind, and yet they did. Along with their own charges.

Kellam and Frederick reached the bottom quickly. It was a quiet place, only lit by several candles. As soon as they arrived, though, the silence was broken by crying. The crying of a blue-haired baby, held in Miriel's arms.

"You have returned. Was your foray successful?" Miriel asked, her voice low.

Kellam sighed. "We got a few things, yeah. We should have enough to last us for a good while." The knight swung his pack off, leaning it against a wall. "I'm… glad to see you're alright, Miri."

The normally stoic face of the mage broke out into a small smile. "And you, Kellam. I would be distressed should anything unpleasant befall you."

"How is Lucina?" Frederick asked, wincing as he moved forward. He knew his injury would never truly recover. In fact, it would likely be the death of him before long. But as long as his lord's child drew breath, he wouldn't allow himself to die. "No sign of coughing? Breathing troubles?"

Miriel lightly rocked the child in her arms. "The infant is healthy, if restless, Sir Frederick. However, I suggest we find a way out of this city. It is no place for any child now."

"Had I the means, I would have sent you all out of Ylisstol and into the surrounding countryside. She would be safe there. But there are still civilians out there, trying to stay safe indoors while the Risen poke around the ruins looking for them. Beyond that, I find it dubious that you all would be able to survive out in this weather. The cold is… stifling."

"Sir Frederick, with all due respect, we've been through worse," A voice piped up, much deeper than what it used to be. Frederick turned to see Ricken walk out of the shadows, much taller than what he used to be. He struck a gaunt figure, however, with the bags under his eyes and his sickly pale skin. "We were both at Khadein. Sure, I wasn't there for long, but…"

Frederick raised a brow. "And yet these infants haven't. You haven't forgotten that you have your own child, have you?"

Ricken gritted his teeth as he turned away. "And what's the point if she grows up without a mother? Nowi is still out there, somewhere, I know it! Laurent and Nah too! I don't mind letting Miriel and the others leave, Sir Frederick, but I refuse to leave them behind!"

Frederick felt shame claw at him from the depths of his heart. Nowi and Nah in particular were the reason Ylisstol lasted for as long as it did. Their dragon forms were invaluable for keeping the Risen at bay, that was until they mysteriously vanished. Laurent followed suit not long after, and the city fell within a week of that. Frederick could understand Ricken's anger, his desperation. He had never known what it was to love another so truthfully, so eagerly. The only thing he could equate it to was his devotion to his lord, but somehow he felt that paled in comparison.

"…Whatever," Ricken sighed, wiping at his forehead as he retreated into the shadow. "If they're… Gods, what fools we were. We shouldn't have let them go like that. We should've been out there, with them."

"There is no point in regretting the past, Ricken," Frederick stated. "The only thing we can do is move forward. I have no doubt that milord will be back. As soon as this summer."

"How do you know that?" Ricken stared accusingly. "Is it a gut feeling, maybe? I wish I had your confidence."

The mage hung over a small crib, one of two within the small basement. Within lied a small, pointy-eared baby, soundly sleeping, despite the noise. Frederick looked away.

It was true. Frederick didn't know. He just hoped, perhaps. The sky was dark, the air was cold, and the Castle, the palace he'd called home for so long was covered in darkness and evil, spewing the selfsame material into the sky and tormenting the residents. Had he no hope, he would have dropped his lance and released himself from the armor he wore and allowed the Risen to tear him apart.

And yet it was because of that hope that he kept fighting, despite the curse that festered in his flesh, and despite the grave losses. Lucina was still alive, safe within their small hideout, along with Nah. Once they were gone, then he could die.

Frederick perked up when he heard a creak from above. He pointed his lance upward, waiting for the intruder to either climb or fall. Kellam followed while Miriel stepped backward, ready to protect the baby in her arms.

A man descended down the rickety ladder. One they were all familiar with. Kellam spoke first, astonishment coloring his tone, "…Laurent!?"

"Father! I knew you were-!" The future mage exclaimed, turning around once he'd fully descended and stopping when he noticed the weapons pointed squarely at him. "…Ah, yes. I did not announce my arrival. My apologies. I should have known."

"You've been gone for weeks!" Kellam said, rushing over. "What happened!? Where'd you go? Where're Nowi and Nah-!?"

"M-My apologies, father. I would have sent word to you all the moment I was certain what had transpired, but I was… waylaid. The Risen have completely taken over the city now. Truly, this is almost no different from when we arrived from our own accursed time. Even the sky is the same now."

"Gods above, I'm just glad you're safe!" Kellam let out a sigh of relief, gathering his future son in a bearhug.

Laurent wheezed, attempting to pull away. "Father!" He coughed, "F-Father, your armor! I-I'm dying…!"

"You did not know where to find us, so you hid," Frederick summed up, putting his lance away. "I am impressed. But there is something I must know. What happened to Nowi? Nah? Are they alive as well?"

Kellam released Laurent, who struggled for a few moments to catch his breath. Once he did, however, his expression grew dark and grim. Ricken walked up from the shadows once more, circled eyes glaring at his fellow mage. "Sir Frederick… Sir Ricken… this is something I cannot tell you easily…"

Alexander

Castle Ylisstol was a sundered mockery of its former self.

Its halls were left broken and desolate, with only faint splatters of red marking where servants or soldiers once were, long since turned into the many Risen that shambled along the streets below it. Colors emblazoned with the Brand of the Exalt were torn and shredded, nearly completely disfiguring the rallying symbol of Ylisse.

And there, in the destroyed throne room where the Exalt was to sit, instead sat the Fell Dragon. His vessel, at any rate. Its clawed hands chewed through the armrests in frustration. A light snarl loosed from its mouth as it stood up and paced.

"Verrat, you disappoint me. Strong as you are, I thought you more than capable of wiping out the remnants of the Valmese and Ylissean armies, along with their heads. And yet, here I stand at a loss! Not only does Chrom live, but I can sense power amassing on the horizon. The Awakening has been performed! Damn you, Naga!" The vessel swung its fist backward, carving a path straight through the stone throne, nearly destroying it completely in a single strike. Bits of broken stone and dust made their way to the knelt thing in front of the vessel. Deadlord Verrat was completely still, red eyes focused on the ground.

"What do you have to say for yourself, my old friend?" Grima asked, staring down at the exposed Deadlord. "You dealt with the Conqueror with no issue. Yet the Exalt and his family live, and my new vessel nowhere near my grasp. Tell me, Verrat, why this is. Tell me why you have failed."

"Liar."

It was a single word, yet one the Fell Dragon strained to hear with his dull human senses. He walked forward, a sickly purple aura amassing around him. "Excuse me? I do not think I quite heard what you said."

Verrat looked up, then, eyes ablaze with hateful fire. His face was marred by decaying flesh and scars, but the man he once was shone through, all the same. "You lied. The daughter of Cordelia and Alexander lives; Severa lives! You lied!"

A stray giggle left Grima's lips, before turning into complete laughter. The Fell Dragon descended down the small steps, red eyes focusing on the knelt Deadlord. "I lied, did I? Or did you simply come to your own conclusions? Hmph, have it your way. Of course I lied, old friend. How else was I to get you to come willingly? Or perhaps you never did fall willingly… Oh, how could I forget the times we shared?"

"We have shared nothing," Verrat snarled, teeth bared. "All of it, lies. All of it!"

"Come now, dog, that's no way to address your master," Grima stated, kneeling down to Verrat's level and raising his hand, cupping the Deadlord's intact cheek. "Look at how I've marked you… You are mine now, in soul and in body. Your mind will truly follow, someday. And just as I have marked you…" Grima raised his other hand, tracing it across the scars on his face. A horrid grin split across his lips. "You have marked me. But now I see that I have let you off your leash for too long. It's time for discipline to be given back to you."

A monstrous shock slapped Verrat across the face. The Deadlord roared, raising himself back to his feet and drawing Requiem.

"Baring your silver fangs at me now, are you?" Grima smiled, genuinely. "Come then, show me how much bite you have in you."

For a single instant, Verrat was gone. For a single instant, the Deadlord was Alexander again, and before him he saw the greatest enemy he'd ever known. All doubt was wiped from his mind as even the insect that burrowed in his mind was compelled to his will. Alexander surged forward, ready to skewer his eternal tormentor once and for all-

A torrent of dark lightning surged from Grima's fingers, and Verrat was sent careening into a pillar. He smashed through the stone, his remaining armor bending under the incredible strain. He fell, his back to what remained of the pillar as he looked up to see the towering form of the vessel standing over him.

"Truly disappointing. You could not even lay a single finger on me, just as you could not back then. Your feelings anchor you, as they always have. Is one Ylissean wench so important to you, that you would question me?"

Verrat stared blankly.

"Perhaps if I looked more like her, you would not have these dreadful thoughts. Do you remember how I changed? How she looked? I can do that again. I can do that again and again for the rest of time."

Verrat tried to get up.

Grima sighed, lightning gathering in his hands again. "Alas, I will not waste time with such play. You must be disciplined. So long as you hold onto those idiotic memories of yours, forever shall I have you in my grasp. Always my servant, always my dog, Alexander!"

The lightning poured onto him like a waterfall, unceasingly charring his skin and burning his bones. His enhanced muscles quaked and spasmed as the dark lightning surged through him. And yet, through the pain and hatred, he could hear a voice. Distant at first, but growing stronger.

Alex.

He killed Alexander. He was a fool, a listless, stupid fool. Weak and unworthy of the gifts that had been bestowed upon him.

Alex!

And yet, perhaps what is dead may never die-

Alex!

Boom. Last Xenologue done and dusted. Now we truly move on to the final arc. And if you read all this, then you know it'll be seriously FUCKED.

As a quick bit of trivia, that last scene with Verrat and Grima has been banging around in my head for almost a year now. I originally wrote a version of it all the way back when he first appeared. Man, how times have changed...

Real quick, since the end of this fic is approaching, I have a poll on my profile with several options that I can start writing once Aberration is complete. Go ahead and have a look-see. This is just so I can guage what my readers would like to see me do next; it won't set in stone what I do next. I'll close the poll a month after this chapter is uploaded, so around... October 12. Hope to see you there.

Anyway, here's a link to our Discord server: discord .gg/9XG3U7a

Hope you guys have a good rest of your day, and see ya next time!